


Bad Connection

by Burnadette_dpdl



Series: He Who Must Be Kept [1]
Category: Vampire Chronicles - All Media Types, Vampire Chronicles - Anne Rice
Genre: Brotp, Comfort, Comfort/Angst, Emotional Hurt, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Emotional/Psychological Abuse, Hurt, Hurt/Comfort
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-28
Updated: 2016-07-28
Packaged: 2018-07-27 09:22:10
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 997
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7612582
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Burnadette_dpdl/pseuds/Burnadette_dpdl
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Daniel and Lestat are out on the town when Amel decides to join them. He is very much a painful third wheel, and Daniel has to help Lestat through the attack.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Bad Connection

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Gairid](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Gairid/gifts), [cloudsinvenice](https://archiveofourown.org/users/cloudsinvenice/gifts), [hw_campbell_jr](https://archiveofourown.org/users/hw_campbell_jr/gifts).



> Post _Prince Lestat._
> 
> This outgrew the drabble limit and couldn't be pared down. I had all these ideas swirling around based on the excerpt we got a few days ago and then [redacted for privacy]'s drabble got me thinking about Daniel, and so... this happened! Thanks to @cloudsinvenice and @gairid for beta'ing! Hopefully this will be the start of a series of connected short pieces/chapters which will collectively be called He Who Must Be Kept.
> 
> Prompts used: Heart (2x), Without, Piano, Serenade.

It had to be the moment we were ready to reel our big game in, having let our appetites gradually build all evening, that's the moment Amel decided to come slamming back home like the Tazmanian devil on crack.

Not that our "dinner" noticed any of this but I knew it immediately, felt a ripple in the air, and Lestat gave into an unusual little shudder as if he was chilled. His face drained of his previously engaged expression and then, a siren blasted a slowly building crescendo that only he could hear, his hands coming up, his head folding down, and a grimace that became the biting of his lower lip, keeping him from screaming. A few droplets of blood, inky black in the dim lighting, fell out grossly from his lip onto the table as he leaned over it, not that anyone noticed but me. Wasteful.

I could hear bits of his pleading with Amel, like he was cooing to a baby - _i love you i love you i love y_ \- and Amel wasn't angry, he seemed to be overly excited, buzzing with excitement and stories from his travels. He was in pieces, a swarm of giant bees in a shaken hive.

"Uh, guys, it's been great, but we have to go..." I ran a shaky hand through Lestat’s hair and then put it reassuringly on his shoulder, but there was no bringing him to the surface. For the first time, I would have to handle this attack myself.

"Where y'ofta sweetiepie? Wern’t we all off t’hear y’boyfriend play us some piano?" said Tyson, the bearded man, scratching under his chin, lust glinting in his eyes. Lestat had spent the last half hour manually working him up to a frenzy under the table.

"Francis's got a mean headache... it's... Epilepsy, actually. Terrible thing, epilepsy. We gotta go. He has bad fits, you don't wanna see that." I patted myself down for my wallet.

"Epilepsy my ass. You boys can't handle _y'liquor,_ is what it is!" The bearded man barked out, elbowing his equally burly friend for agreement. He kept going on about us being lightweights or something but I tuned him out. Had to get Lestat out of here, fast.

I dug around in Lestat's wallet for money, _must've left mine at the flat_ , found a few hundreds - _who carries hundreds these days?_ I'd have to pester him about that later - and smacked two bills on the wet table, accidentally smearing the paper on the blood, and rose to my feet, dragging a mostly compliant Lestat up with me.

I had one of his arms hooked around my shoulders and was halfway to the door when I heard them shouting at our backs, "Cockteases!" Yeah, no argument there.

A mile away we found an abandoned lot without any sign of mortals around. Lestat dropped to his knees brokenly, the heels of his hands pressed against his head like a vice, lower lip still clenched in his teeth and leaking little rivulets of blood down his chin. Blood getting in his hair. He fell on his side and started a stifled moaning that tore at my heart.

With shaking hands I pulled my phone out and managed to text Louis:

(917): HELP - CAMEL ATTACK  
(917): *AMEL

The phone buzzed to life immediately.

"Jesus, thanks for calling back so fast-"  
" -ut his --ones in."  
"You're breaking up, Louis, we're in a dead zone or someth-"  
"-UT HIS HEADPHO- IN"  
"Oh, right, put his headphones in! Yeah okay gotcha!"

I kept the line open, clambered over beside Lestat and rummaged through his canvas pack, fished out the little wireless headset, switched it on. He was on his side on the ground, so I pulled him onto his back, swept his hair back from his face with trembling hands and coaxed him into giving me access to his ears so I could shove the little silicone buds in nice and deep. His hands clapped over them as I thumbed to a playlist on his phone called "EMRGNCY 2016 July" and hit play, the loading icon spinning. Pumped the volume up over the warning levels.

Finally I heard the music bleeding out, serenading them both, and he relaxed in stuttered stages, his knee drawing up from the contorted position it had been under his body. The music had the kind of plaintive cries about love, probably from the 1970's, that had a golden nostalgic charm for me. Something about my mother humming this song with a little radio on the windowsill as she made pancakes… I slumped against Lestat. _Could we ever let him roam without a babysitter again?_

This was only my first time handling it, and I backtracked through the whole thing, from the onset to getting here with Lestat sprawled on his back in the thorny weeds and gravel, the heel of his expensive boot digging a shallow trench as he calmed down. Marius would have handled this better. Louis would have handled this better. _Anyone_ would have handled it better. No matter how many times they had walked me through the procedure, when push came to shove, had I done alright? Well enough that I could be allowed to go out with him alone again? Would I _want_ to? I still felt I hadn't done all that great. I looked at Lestat, his eyes still shut tight, eyelashes sealed with a trickle of blood tears, but he was no longer moaning or biting his lip, that was good. Dried blood in his hair and on his shirt. I gave his shoulder a squeeze, more for my own good than his.

The connection had broken so I called Louis back, told him the situation was under control, we’d be back to the flat soon, and he thanked me. He said he’d have a bubble bath waiting for Lestat, thanked me again, and I heard him heave a broken sigh. Or it might have been the bad connection.


End file.
